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  • [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

    The boyeviks the young muscle our old warlord Aleksandr groomed from urchins on the street
    to protect the brotherhood grow tired of the constant threat to their homes and family. They sleep
    with one eye open, their hand over their heart, wondering if the brother next to them will be killing
    their mother or raping their sister in retribution for some Bratva infraction.
    The older generation such as Thomas and Kilment and those who sit on the Petrovich Bratva
    counsel are loathe to hand over the power of this organization to me, a mere foot soldier sold by his
    father to repay debts. With Sergei dead and the vicious Elena the only real Petrovich left, I am left
    with a choice. Attempt to wrest control of the brotherhood from the old guard or walk away.
    And I would walk away. I have some money stored but I ve been a Petrovich for a long time and
    there are many enemies that would crow over my death. No, in order to survive, the Petrovich Bratva
    must remain strong.
    If I have learned anything, it is that people with nothing are victims. It is those with power and
    money and might who have the ability to protect others.
    Thomas rubs a hand across his jaw.  There is one thing you could do.
     That is a legend, Thomas, Kilment groans.
     I will do it. Legends persist because people believe and if belief means I can bring down
    Elena Petrovich and secure a peaceful future, then I will pursue this foolishness until the painting is
    mine. Their desire to recapture the past is absurd and yet another reason the old guard should be
    replaced.  You wish me to procure the Caravaggio.
    Cries of wonder and confusion fill the room.
     So you know, Kilment says flatly.
    I pretend no ignorance for it is a story that Alexsandr shared with me long ago.  I know that a
    famous triptych painted by Caravaggio once hung in the palaces of the Medici in Florence, perhaps
    the Careggi Villa. It was commissioned as an altarpiece but considered to be too profane as many of
    his pieces were judged. It was gifted by the Medici to Feodor I who then lost it, and Russia entered
    the Time of Troubles. When the Boyars rose to power in the 1700s, it is rumored the painting was
    recovered by Peter the Great. Citizen Petrovich s grandfather was gifted this set of three paintings
    and it hung in the great hall of the Petrovichs until it was lost, sold, stolen during Sergei s time. Many
    say that he who holds it, holds the world.
    Thomas nods at this recitation but Kilment looks unconvinced.
     It is known as the Madonna and the Vor, I conclude. The Petrovichs loved the painting
    because the woman who sat for Caravaggio was purportedly a true Mary Magdalene a whore. And
    the vor? It is a man-wolf who is eating Mary, and despite the gruesomeness of the depiction there is
    an expression of ecstasy on her face. I saw it only once, when I was given to Elena Petrovich like
    some birthday treat. It seemed fitting that Sergei sold it to fund some sordid perversion of his own.
     But why is it that it is of any importance? It is a mere painting.
    Thomas stares at me.  It is a symbol of our wealth and power, and we have lost it. And no
    Caravaggio, one of the greatest painters of all time, can be dubbed a mere painting. It belonged to
    Peter the Great. It is priceless, one of a kind. Why would we not want it? That it is in the hands of
    someone else is shameful, a blot against the Petrovich name. Now more than ever, we must show our
    enemies we are strong.
     So you want it, but why is this your loyalty test? Have I not proven myself again and again?
    Have I not shed the blood of my own family for the brotherhood? I spread my scarred hands out as if
    they hold the proof of my allegiance.
     The Caravaggio has been lost to us for years. Many of us have tried to find it but have failed,
    Thomas admits.  If you find it, you will show yourself to be a man of resource and cunning, a man
    who is unafraid. You will restore the pride to the brotherhood and prove your worth as a leader.
    I hold back a lip-curl of disgust at this. Leadership is not running around the world seeking one
    painting. Leadership is moving our assets out of dangerous and risky ventures and into more stable
    enterprises. Leadership is generating loyalty by providing a way for the members to feed their
    families and protect their loved ones.
    This is a snipe hunt, an impossible task designed to make me fail and appear weak amongst those
    who would support me. Or worse, in my absence they will eliminate those they deem a threat. To kill
    me here would generate a revolt.
    No, this is not about a painting. This is punishment, revenge, retribution. But I am one step ahead
    of them. I guessed that this is the task they would set before me. They think I will be gone long,
    chasing my tail for months. I will be happy to prove how wrong they are.
    Thomas sits back and looks around the table. He has been a member of the Bratva for a long
    time. They respect his voice.  Bring us the Madonna and the Bratva will be yours. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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